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Fainted Breaths: I Am The Author
In a vacant room
I lay empty.
Hollowed by endless revelations,
Burdening a simple man.
Wasted by experiences
Eager to see the fruits of my hands.
I've died to plant,
A vision intimate with my dreams.
Are they schemes
Flaunted by my sins?
Yet I'm captivated by the brush
In my palms.
A liberator or jailer,
As I face the wilderness.
Deserted by my will,
To summon a reason
To see I am the author.
© fruitfulodyssey
I lay empty.
Hollowed by endless revelations,
Burdening a simple man.
Wasted by experiences
Eager to see the fruits of my hands.
I've died to plant,
A vision intimate with my dreams.
Are they schemes
Flaunted by my sins?
Yet I'm captivated by the brush
In my palms.
A liberator or jailer,
As I face the wilderness.
Deserted by my will,
To summon a reason
To see I am the author.
© fruitfulodyssey
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14 Likes
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